


One October

by Lysandra



Category: Bartimaeus - Jonathan Stroud
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Halloween, one character experiences something that could be interpreted as a mild trauma reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-07 03:26:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16400456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysandra/pseuds/Lysandra
Summary: "It's been nearly a year since the Spirit Rebellion, and Bartimaeus, Kitty and Nathaniel have all managed to grow quite close to each other in the time since then. But a new challenge is on the horizon - Kitty's come to realize that neither Bartimaeus and Nathaniel have had a proper Halloween celebration, due to one being a spirit and the other having been trained on how to be a magician since he was little. Will Kitty be able to show them the magic of the spookiest time of the year?"





	One October

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magestorrow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magestorrow/gifts).



> Happy Halloween! :) Thanks to saentiel for the awesome prompt!

It was a frosty October morning.

Cold enough for a sweater, but not enough for a jacket, the weather outside was nippy enough to have Kitty and Nathaniel huddled inside, delaying their weekend trip to the market. They sat at the breakfast table in the house that they shared - though Nathaniel had offered repeatedly to pay for Kitty to have her own lodgings, they were in unspoken agreement that the silence of an empty house was more than either of them could bear yet.

Kitty sat with her feet pulled up onto her chair, a cup of tea balanced on her knees. Nathaniel poked lethargically at the scrambled eggs he’d cooked to death, contemplating whether to give up and drink more coffee instead.

“That looks a bit grim, to be honest,” said the fluffy desert cat sitting in the windowsill. “How did you even get them that color?”

Nathaniel frowned, his brow creasing. “I had someone to do this for me before,” he mumbled. The cat rolled its yellow eyes.

“Poor dear. I can’t fathom how hard this must be.” Bartimaeus taunted, but the truth of the matter was that they all knew what a significant thing it was, for a magician to renounce magic altogether. Though to do so as a form of political protest was not without precedent, it was unheard of in the modern western world. But Nathaniel’s feelings about the matter had changed drastically in the past year since the Demon Uprising, and he stood firmly by Kitty’s side in her efforts to end the enslavement of spirits. Bartimaeus didn’t often comment on it, and when he did it was with gentle mockery, but it was obvious how he felt about it in how viciously he protected his friends.

And they  _ were  _ friends. It was still odd to see Bartimaeus sashaying around the house, not because he had a task to complete, but because he wanted to be there. It seemed sometimes that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. Nathaniel had caught him in the garden, once, braiding flowers into a little bracelet around his wrist and looking genuinely content. On weekends, he often went with the two of them to do the shopping, and though he groaned about how tedious it was, it was obvious he enjoyed it. Perhaps all this suited him in his old age. It was the closest thing to a retirement that he would ever get.

Nathaniel was contemplating this when Bartimaeus said, “You might want to throw that out before it achieves sentience.” He sighed. Bartimaeus was right. No amount of pepper could save his creation. Deciding to save himself the embarrassment of trying to choke the rest of it down, Nathaniel was about to stand when Kitty said, “Halloween is soon.” She was looking out at the misty street, seemingly deep in thought.

“Is it?” Nathaniel rarely gave the holiday much thought.

“I always liked Halloween,” said Kitty. “I used to to tease Jakob, tell him that demons were going to grab him in his sleep. He didn’t like that.”

“I can’t imagine why,” said Bartimaeus. Then, “Useless holiday, if you ask me. Bordering on offensive, really, if you consider its origins.”

“Now it’s just one more thing to keep commoners occupied, isn’t it?” said Nathaniel.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Kitty, knowing full well that it wouldn’t stop him from being ridiculous. “Halloween has been around a long time. It’s fun, yes, but it means a lot to people - isn’t the veil meant to be thinner around this time of year?”

“You’re thinking of the autumnal equinox,” Bartimaeus said. “That’s in September. The only thing that’s thinning now is my patience.” The fluffy cat curled its tail around its feet. “Children in costumes? Fearmongering about demons?  _ Squash?  _ It’s as if someone asked,  _ Bartimaeus, what are the most irritating things you can imagine, so we can put them together into a holiday? _ ”

“Well, I think it’s fun,” Kitty huffed. “Nathaniel, surely you did something to acknowledge it as a child.”

“Are you joking?” said Nathaniel. “My master would turn out the lights at seven and then stare through the blinds, muttering. The other magicians had parties, I suppose, but I never did anything.”

“Huh,” said Kitty, in a tone that meant,  _ That’s so sad.  _ “What about Christmas?”

“I got socks,” he said, arching a brow. “Every year.”

“Perhaps I’ll go out and terrify small children,” said Bartimaeus, deliberately ignoring that soul-crushing information. “That’s always a laugh.”

“Good to see you making the most of your freedom,” said Kitty, but they all knew she meant it.

* * *

 

“What,” said Nathaniel, “is that?”

“It’s a pumpkin,” said Kitty patiently. “For carving.”

“What is it doing here?” Bartimaeus asked. In Ptolemy’s form, he was circling the object on the breakfast table like it might attack at any minute.

“We are going to carve it. Together,” said Kitty, through audibly gritted teeth. “And if you blow it up with a detonation, I’ll buy another one!” Bartimaeus hastily lowered his hand.

“I...alright,” said Nathaniel, spreading his hands in a placating gesture. “If it’s important to you.” He felt awkward, like he’d been invited to participate in a bizarre foreign custom that no ambassador had remembered to prepare him for.

“I just want you to have a real, proper Halloween,” she said, frowning a little. “Like I did when I was a kid.”

Nathaniel understood. They couldn’t undo the childhood he’d really had, but perhaps some of the memories could be colored by more pleasant ones. It was a compassionate idea.

“Sappy,” Bartimaeus warned, hands on hips. “Very sappy.”

“Shut up,” said Kitty, squaring her shoulders. “I’m getting a knife.”

“Hey, there’s no need to-”

“For the pumpkin,” she clarified.

“Oh,” said Bartimaeus. He tossed a shrug Nathaniel’s way.

Kitty selected a sharp-looking serrated knife from the block on the counter. “Alright,” she said. “I haven’t done this in a while, but it’s simple, right? Just open the top and pull the guts out.”

“Oh,” said Nathaniel. “Right. The...guts.”

“Now you’re squeamish?” said Bartimaeus. “Don’t let her shame you, Nat. Get in there. You carve that pumpkin.” He took a deliberate step back.

“You’ve done more carving than I have, I suspect,” said Nathaniel. “Maybe you should do it.”

“I’ll cut it open,” said Kitty, turning the pumpkin to and fro to examine it, “and you can help me scoop out the insides. That’s what the tablecloth is for.” Said tablecloth was checkered, yellowed and fraying at the edges. It must have been Kitty’s, a relic of an earlier time.

“Oh. Bonding,” said Bartimaeus in conspicuous monotone. “Hooray.”

“You  _ can  _ leave,” Kitty reminded him, and abruptly shoved the knife through the top of the pumpkin. It made a hollow, wet noise that sounded like a threat.

“Here. Let me-” Nathaniel held the base of the pumpkin while Kitty hacked at it, but it quickly became apparent that a bread knife was not the best implement for this. But they made it work with elbow grease and more than a little swearing. The top removed, the three of them peered inside the vegetable curiously.

“Look at all that festivity,” said Bartimaeus. “Slimy, slimy festivity.”

“Touch the festivity, Bartimaeus,” said Kitty, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“Oh...alright, then. Let me show you how it’s done.” The Egyptian boy gingerly shoved his arm into the pumpkin and scooped up a handful of slime. His face was twisted in disgust. “Yep! No doubt about it: that’s slime!” he said, slopping the pumpkin guts onto the tablecloth. He shook his hand, but stringy orange bits clung to it stubbornly. He looked like a cat who’d stepped in a puddle and needed to go lick its paws in the corner.

“Have some, Nathaniel,” said Bartimaeus, and smeared some of the remaining pumpkin goo onto Nathaniel’s cheek. It was so childish that Kitty had to laugh, snorting out her nose, and then Nathaniel was rolling up his sleeves and reaching into the pumpkin.

“Let’s not play games,” he said, feeling around for the juiciest portion of the squash. Then, quick as a wink, he pulled a handful of guts out of the pumpkin and lobbed it at Bartimaeus’s torso.

Bartimaeus hollered, a gutteral sound, and the next scoop of pumpkin flesh missed Nathaniel entirely, landing in Kitty’s hair. The next ten minutes or so were a whirlwind of flying orange gunk. It got in Nathaniel’s mouth, in his hair, and in his eye. It was only when the pumpkin had been thoroughly cleaned out that they called a truce. Bartimaeus hung his head, looking humbled by what had just occurred. And then he started cackling, laughing so hard that he had to double over, hands braced against his thighs. Nathaniel was sticky, the stuff on his skin drying and beginning to crack. But he felt...good. Better than he could ever remember feeling, happy and warm. He was smiling, not a calculated shift of muscle but a real smile, one he couldn’t help.

“This shirt is dry-clean only,” he said, but he realized it didn’t matter. It was just clothing. He had more than that, now.

“I’m going to put the pumpkin away now,” said Kitty. “It needs a face, but we can do that later.”

“Oh! Can we make it look like Hopkins? And then smash it to pieces?” asked Bartimaeus.

“Yes,” said Nathaniel, and patted his shoulder.

* * *

 

Nathaniel and Bartimaeus didn’t spend an excessive amount of time together without Kitty. It wasn’t that their bickering without her was entirely unmanageable, but rather than their little spats ended much faster when she was there to knock their heads together (mostly figuratively).

That being said, they had somehow managed an outing to the local grocery, followed by an unscheduled detour to the park, without anyone resorting to primary school insults. These insults were concealed gestures of trust half the time, but it was still pleasing to both of them to enjoy each other’s company without any barbs.

When they arrived home (though one of them would always deny that he thought of the place that way), there was an unusual scent in the air. It was decidedly pleasant, and it smelled heavily of autumn. 

“Has Kitty been fiddling with incense mixes again?” Bartimaeus said, shouldering a bag of produce. “Smells off, if so.”

“Maybe one of her experiments,” said Nathaniel, following after his companion with the bread and eggs. They wandered into the little kitchen to find Kitty with her hair tied back, bent over a large pot that she was stirring vigorously.

“Hello,” she said. “Shopping go well?”

“Yes,” said Bartimaeus. “What are you making?”

“Cider,” she said. “It’s been getting cooler and everything, so…”

“What did you put in that?” Bartimaeus was setting the bag down heavily on the counter, eyes half closed. He looked suddenly sleepy.

“Cinnamon, orange peel, cedar bark...oh, and apples, of course.”

“You know I react to that stuff? Not in the usual way, but...”

“Nathaniel told me. It’s relaxing, yeah?”

“It...is, yes.” Bartimaeus smiled blearily. Nathaniel started putting the groceries away, tucking the broccolini into the crisper with the carrots they still hadn’t eaten, but kept buying because it felt like the sort of thing one has in the refrigerator.

“I know you can’t eat, but I wanted you to be able to enjoy it, too,” she said. “We can open the windows if it’s too much.” She began ladling cider into two mugs, and Nathaniel hastily closed the refrigerator so she could hand one to him. It was his favorite mug, the one with the chip in the handle that he worried with his thumb when he was thinking.

He cupped the mug in his hands, looking contemplatively into the swirling steam. “Thank you,” he said. He took a sip. “Oh,” he said. “That’s very nice.”

“There, you see? She can cook something that isn’t toast or gruel.” Bartimaeus leaned against the counter.

“I’ll maim you,” said Kitty cheerfully, and drank some of her cider. “We should sit down,” she said. “We can finish with the groceries after.” Nathaniel agreed quietly.

They moved into the adjacent sitting room and the three of them crowded onto the sofa. Bartimaeus peered at Nathaniel’s beverage with interest.

“Look at us, all rosy-cheeked and seasonal,” said Bartimaeus, sleepy. 

“Like a real family,” Nathaniel said quietly, and then cringed inwardly at his choice of words. But Bartimaeus and Kitty only smiled.

“Drink up, son,” said Kitty.

“Oh, are you the mother?” said Bartimaeus. “Which of us is the dad? Is there a dad?”

“I am a bedraggled single mother, at her wit’s end and ready to put you both up for adoption.”

“Yes, you look it,” Bartimaeus said. Nathaniel pinched his side. “Ow, ow! Mum, Nathaniel is bullying me!” His voice was an exaggerated whine.

Kitty rolled her eyes. “If I weren’t grey-haired already, living with you two would do it.” She drank some of her cider.

“I don’t even live here,” said Bartimaeus. “This is...oh, my vacation home.” 

“I caught you tsk-ing and picking up a pair of dirty socks the other day,” said Nathaniel. “You definitely live here.”

The banter was prickly on the surface, but it concealed something deeper: they trusted one another, and the comments didn’t hurt. They felt like friendship. So maybe they didn’t often have serious heart-to-hearts about feelings, but that could always change. They knew what was meant. For now, they were safe and happy and warm, and a slightly loopy Bartimaeus was dragging the flannel blanket off the back of the sofa to drape over their laps.

“You know, it’s almost nice when you don’t have to be out slaving in the fields.”

“What is?” asked Kitty.

“The weather,” said Bartimaeus serenely. “It’s still all frozen mud and rain, but it’s out there and I’m in here. No harvest to bring in, no firewood to chop…”

“There are plenty of leaves to rake,” said Nathaniel. “You know, for if you get bored.”

Bartimaeus flicked the tip of his nose.

* * *

 

Nathaniel awoke on the morning of the thirty-first sucking in a pained breath at the dull ache in his side. The battle wound had healed over, but the deep scar was still prone to soreness and occasionally itching when the weather turned humid. He sat up, grumbling, and rubbed at the tough scar tissue absently. It was not the ideal start to the day.

His toes were unpleasantly cold when they touched the oak floor, so Nathaniel hobbled over to his dresser and pulled out the fluffy socks that Kitty had bought him as a gift. They were also the closest thing he had to a security blanket, though he never would have admitted it, not even to himself.

He was almost to his bedroom door when he realized something was off, and he’d long since learned to trust his instincts. What was it? He paused with his hand on the doorknob. It was quiet in the house, he decided. Normally he could hear both of his friends talking in the kitchen, especially Bartimaeus - his voice tended to carry. Strange, he could hear only Kitty today, knocking pans around and setting down dishes. Had Bartimaeus left? He’d planned to stay another week. Well, it didn’t matter. Perhaps he’d gone on an early errand for Kitty.

Nathaniel opened the door and was a step and a half down the hallway before a low, measured voice whispered “ _ Boo. _ ” in his ear.

Though Nathaniel did shriek, and he did leap a foot into the air, and he did almost knock himself over in his hurry to face the source of his distress, he thought he’d managed to maintain a remarkable amount of composure, considering.

“Bartimaeus!” he said, followed by a few more choice words. The Egyptian boy merely grinned at him, fingers laced behind his back.

“Did I spook you? It’s Halloween; spooking people is part of my job.”

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” Nathaniel fought off the uncomfortable urge to shift his hands into gestures he hadn’t used in a very long time. He swallowed heavily.

“Maybe you should eat fewer hamburgers, if that’s a concern.” But Bartimaeus’s smile was fading as he realized that Nathaniel was genuinely upset, the teasing light in his eyes slipping away. “Alright there?”

“Oh, I’m marvelous. I  _ love  _ when de- spirits sneak up behind me while my back is turned.” 

“Yes,” said Bartimaeus, scratching the back of his neck. He looked embarrassed, eyes downcast. “Right. Not your favorite, I would imagine. Hmm, how about if I make you breakfast today?” He shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

Nathaniel breathed out slowly and unclenched his fists. He made an effort to straighten his knees, realizing his was half-sunk into a defensive crouch. “Apology accepted,” he sighed. “But please don’t. Kitty would never forgive me for letting you cook after last time.”

“Ouch,” said Bartimaeus. “It wasn’t that bad. And I put the fire out right away.”

Nathaniel couldn’t help but smirk a little. “Honestly,” he said, “having you and Kitty for friends is almost more dangerous than having enemies.”

“Isn’t it? That’s why it’s best to keep to one’s self and never let anyone like you.” The light was back in the djinni’s eyes, but there were lines between his brows.

Bartimaeus and Nathaniel wandered down the hallway to the kitchen, where they found Kitty eating her oatmeal with one eye on the morning paper.

“Morning,” she said, not looking up. Nathaniel realized that she hadn’t come to check on him when he’d screamed as Bartimaeus slipped into the shape of the desert cat and sprang up onto the windowsill where he sunned himself in the mornings.

“Did you...hear anything just then?” Nathaniel was still standing, arms crossed.

“What, you shrieking? I figured you two were up to something stupid and could resolve it yourselves.” Kitty’s spoon clinked against the bowl.

“I think you just didn’t want to get up. Arthritic knees and all,” drawled Bartimaeus from the window. 

“You’re just projecting because you are one million years old,” said Kitty. She tried to look serious, but her voice trembled with the beginning of a laugh.

“Technically speaking, the Other Place exists outside of time, which makes my age infinite,” said Bartimaeus as Nathaniel went to pull a bran muffin out of the pantry.

“The iron in my body came from the heart of an imploding star,” said Kitty between bites of oatmeal.

“Ooh, good one,” said Bartimaeus.

Nathaniel returned to the table with his breakfast. It was soothing, listen to the two of them sharpen their wits on each other. The back-and-forth almost faded into background noise sometimes. No doubt Bartimaeus would have swatted him for suggesting that everything he said wasn’t worthy of undivided attention.

Nathaniel gazed out the window dreamily at a swirl of falling leaves. Winter would be here soon. He’d only just gotten out of hospital when Christmas came last year, so they hadn’t had a proper celebration. He wondered what it would be like this year...and how odd to have people he could count on being there. Not just in a month’s time, but presumably in the years ahead, maybe even for the rest of his life.

Kitty waved a hand in front of Nathaniel’s face. “Hello?”

“Mm. I’m here. Just thinking.” Nathaniel picked at his muffin. He realized he hated bran.

“About what?” The sand cat licked its paw in affected disinterest.

“The future,” Nathaniel said. “Never thought I’d have to plan it around anyone but myself. If that. It’s strange having...people.” He looked down at the table, suddenly embarrassed by the small admission. He brushed a few crumbs off his pajama top. He never used to do anything before getting dressed and combing his hair, but somehow the habit had changed. Perhaps looking death straight in the eyes had given him a little perspective.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said about us,” said Bartimaeus, but he looked as pleased as a cat could.

“It is strange, really,” said Kitty. “It was the same for me. When everyone around you keeps dying, it makes sense to give up after a while. We’ve gone all domestic, haven’t we? I should practice with my knives. It’s been ages; I’ll get sloppy.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I bet you’ll be fine,” said Nathaniel. “It’s like riding a bicycle, probably.”

Kitty smiled. “It’s still a good idea to practice riding.” She stood up with her empty bowl and moved to the sink to wash it.

“So...plans for tonight?” Bartimaeus asked. “Are we going out as usual? It’s Friday.”

“Not as usual,” said Kitty. “It’s Halloween, after all. We ought to do something special. So I’ve planned something.”

“We’re not going hiking again, are we?” asked Nathaniel plaintively. “Kitty, the bugs…”

“No, don’t worry,” she said, drying off her dishes. “We’re going somewhere much better. It’s to be a full moon as well, so I thought we’d find a nice hilltop to watch it from. There’s one in the park. Not supposed to be there after dark, but it’s not patrolled. If we wear dark clothes we’ll be fine.”

“Is this going to involve grass stains?” Bartimaeus flicked his tail disdainfully.

“Maybe,” she said. “But we haven’t had an adventure in ages. Unless you’d rather stay here and give sweets to children?”

Bartimaeus tilted his head. “Well,” he said, “when you put it that way…”

* * *

 

They set out a little after dark. As instructed, they wore black. Bartimaeus had dressed Ptolemy in a hooded black cloak that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a vampire. Kitty, in jeans and a sweatshirt, had slung a rucksack over one shoulder - it contained “supplies”, she’d said. Nathaniel was beginning to have a bad feeling about this.

As they slipped down a street already peppered with children in colorful costumes, Nathaniel tried to convince himself that there was nothing inherently suspicious about three people in all black, one of whom was extremely short and dressed like a medieval penitent. Especially not on Halloween.

“What are you, then?” said a small voice.

“Sorry?” Bartimaeus stopped and looked down at a small, mousy-haired girl dressed as a witch, pointy hat and all. She was quiet enough that they hadn’t heard her approach.

“What sort of creature are you supposed to be?” she demanded. “You’ve got wings, but not like an angel or a bat.” Bartimaeus’s eyes widened.

“She sees you,” said Nathaniel wonderingly.

“Yes, I can bloody well see that.” Bartimaeus lowered his hood and bent down so that his nose was even with the child’s. “Let me tell you a secret, little girl: there are dangerous spirits out on this night. Spirits like  _ me. _ ” As Nathaniel watched, the shadow Bartimaeus cast writhed and shifted like a tormented beast. The breeze began to pick up, stirring the leaves around their feet. The djinni’s eyes darkened, two black holes in an impassive face. “If you’re not careful, we’ll grab you and bite you tear you to pieces!”

The little girl giggled. Bartimaeus frowned.

“Okay,” she said, and patted him on the head like an obedient hound. 

“Aren’t you horrified by my monstrous shape?” asked Bartimaeus, stunned. The child hesitated.

“My sister says one mustn’t be cruel to people just because they’re ugly,” she said, and trotted off down the street after an older girl who was beckoning urgently.

“Looks like you’ve lost your touch,” said Kitty, biting back a laugh. “Big bad Bartimaeus can’t even spook a little girl.”

“Oh, hush,” he said. “Adults frighten more easily than children, sometimes. And I didn’t even get to the  _ really  _ ominous stuff.”

“Or,” said Nathaniel, finally getting a clear look at his Ptolemy guise in the dim light of the streetlamps, “maybe it’s because you’re wearing eyeliner.”

“It’s stylish!” Bartimaeus harrumphed.

“I’m glad to see you embracing the dressing up bit, at least,” said Kitty. “Come on.”

She led them windingly through the city, the moon high in the sky. It cast an eerie light on their journey, and there were long gaps in the conversation. Nathaniel realized that there was a time, not long ago, when he never would have trusted anyone to lead him to an unknown destination.

But it wasn’t a mystery for long; they soon arrived at the darkened park, welcomed by a pair of wrought iron gates. It was latched, but Bartimaeus reached out and snapped the lock with a click of his fingers.

“There,” he said. “Broken and entered. I’m surprised there’s not more security.”

“There used to be,” said Kitty, “but this park isn’t particularly popular anymore.” She hefted her bag. “The hill is on the other side. Let’s go.”

Nathaniel followed after, but after only a couple minutes of walking, he started to realize that the light from the street wasn’t enough for them to see by, not with the unpruned park trees blotting out the moon. Nathaniel’s shoe caught on an unseen root; he stumbled and nearly fell.

“Kitty,” he said. “I can’t see.”

“Nor can I,” she admitted. She slipped her rucksack off her shoulders and rummaged around. Then paused, cursed. “I think...I forgot the torch somehow. I’m sorry.”

“Never fear,” said Bartimaeus. “ _ I  _ don’t have such feeble vision. Come along.” Bartimaeus shifted in the dark, and then he felt a small hand on his elbow. He tugged gently. “Just put one foot in front of the other,” he said. “I’ll lead the way.” Nathaniel could dimly see him doing the same to Kitty.

“This is a bad idea,” Nathaniel said nervously.

“Don’t trust me, Nat?” asked Bartimaeus. His teeth glinted in the dark. 

Nathaniel sighed and took a step. It was tricky at first, trusting that he wouldn’t walk directly into a ditch, but Bartimaeus guided them faithfully, occasionally muttering directions. When Nathaniel felt a slight slope under his feet, the djinni released his arm.

“This is the hill,” he said. “It’s just grass from here. I trust you can make it yourselves?”

They plodded carefully forward, but there weren’t trees planted in this portion of the park, and that allowed the full moon’s light to illuminate the scene.

“Made it,” said Kitty, as they reached the top. Her voice was hushed, and Nathaniel felt the same impulse to lower his voice; there was something almost sacred about standing there exposed, the moon over them like a watchful eye. Kitty opened her bag again.

“I brought some things,” she said.

“What?” asked Nathaniel. There was the quiet clink of jars being removed.

“Mulled wine,” she said. “Some cheese. A bit of bread. Nothing fancy, really.” Bartimaeus had his head tipped back, contemplating the moon.

“Oh, I...thank you, Kitty.”

“Welcome,” she said, and pushed a glass jar into Nathaniel’s hands. “Drink this,” she said. “It will ward off the chill.”

The grass was fairly dry, so Nathaniel took his drink and sat. Bartimaeus and Kitty followed suit, Kitty breaking off a chunk of the hard cheese she’d wrapped in wax paper and twine.

“Pity we didn’t run into anything spooky in the dark,” said Bartimaeus wistfully. “That would have really made it special.”

“We  _ are _ the spooky things in the dark,” said Kitty.

“I mean, like, a ghost. Or a vampire. Or a door-to-door salesman.”

Nathaniel took a swallow of the wine. It was spicy and sweet. And there was silence for a while. Kitty lay back to stare at the moon, one arm tucked behind her head.

“The two of you aren’t terrible company, you know,” said Bartimaeus suddenly, inspecting his fingernails. Nathaniel felt himself grin.

“You aren’t completely awful, either,” said Nathaniel.

“Oh, please. It embarrasses me when you lavish me with compliments like that.” Bartimaeus was sniggering.

“Get used to it,” said Kitty, and flung the handful of grass she’d idly torn up in Bartimaeus’s general direction.

The seemed to think about that for a moment. “Maybe I will,” he said.


End file.
